


The Last Gift

by hisboywriter



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:17:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy learns he's not the only one crushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Gift

**-X-**

It was the last night of Hanukkah and Teddy wanted to shape-shift into anyone that wasn’t himself.

 

“Stop fussing with your shirt,” his mom told him, again.

Teddy frowned at his buttons and smoothed one hand down their bumpy bodies once more, but stopped ‘fussing’ with it after that. He didn’t know what was more embarrassing: how he continued to unearth new flaws in his outfit, or that his mom caught him doing it each time.  

“Maybe I should have worn a tie,” Teddy murmured as they reached the floor to Billy’s place. He peered down the hallway and couldn’t help analogize it to a long walk to the guillotine. 

Mrs. Altman pressed forward without any of the butterflies that were rampant inside her son. If anything, she seemed keyed up enough for two people.

 “I did ask you to confirm the dress code, didn’t I?” she asked.

“I meant to ask but I just kept forgetting.”

She spared him a look over her shoulder that signified how little she believed that. A smile replaced it and she paused in her stride to face him. Up close, Teddy inhaled her scent, comforted by it.

“You look handsome,” she said, tugging on his dress jacket as if to prove the point. “Trust me.”

Teddy’s heart flipped at the tone of her words. “I’m not worried about looking  _handsome_ , Mom,” he replied, because, really, him flustered over such a thing would just reinstate that he had it bad for his teammate—a fact he had no plans to confess to his mom anytime soon.

She quirked a brow. “Then what are you so worried about?”

Teddy took the initiative and gently brushed her concerns off, taking the lead.

 “Nothing,” he said, “just…I’ve never met his parents. I just don’t want to look like an idiot.”

He heard his mom chuckle. He didn’t know whether or not if it was a relief that she accepted that flimsy excuse. It seemed that some of his butterflies were now morphing into serpents, coiling and churning. His pulse drummed loudly now that their feet carried the only sound.

With each step closing the gap, Teddy wondered if it was too late to feign illness, anything that might spare him what grim end festered behind the door, ready to indulge all of his fears. Things wouldn’t have been in an uproar with him had Billy not been reclusive the last few days, seemingly more and more distant in his eyes and his smiles only half-concentrated. Even his performance with magic was hiccupping and he had swapped Teddy for Eli when they trained once.

Teddy assumed it was a byproduct of him attending the party-that-isn’t-really-a-party at Billy’s home. What else could it be? His mind recoiled at the memories.

He could see the door now.

“Teddy,” his mom said.

Without pulling his attention off the door, Teddy replied with a distracted, “Yeah?”

“Your hands.”

It was an enigmatic enough phrase to yank Teddy from his self-induced turbulence. He glanced down and found himself clutching Billy’s gift hard enough to teem the wrapping with wrinkles.

“Oh, crap,” he gasped and receded his hold, doing his best to salvage the gift, the very one he had still yet to give thanks to losing a chunk of gall every day that Billy avoided his eyes. At best, the gift was a peace offering now.

Teddy heard his mom exhale hard and then the gift was plucked from his hand. She opened his jacket and tucked the small package into his inside pocket.

“Better,” she said and smiled so bright that Teddy managed to smile back. Without her, he doubted he would have confronted the monster that was attending the party alone.

“Everything will be fine,” she assured, and Teddy believed her.

For a reason that both eluded and made Teddy grateful, she didn’t say more about his conduct, instead prioritizing assurance with a light squeeze on his bicep as their journey ended at the Kaplans’ door. With the hall as silent as any gravesite, it was easy to pull at the sounds floating just beyond the door, albeit muffled ones. He couldn’t pinpoint where Billy’s voice surfaced among it.

The weight in Teddy’s jacket’s pocket seemingly doubled, he straightened and knocked on the door. Four, sturdy knocks that counterpointed to what he was feeling. He made sure not to suck in his breath as they waited, the door brooding at him, if such a thing were possible.

Billy waited beyond the door. Would his earlier detachment be a thing of bad memories? Maybe he’d be delighted to see Teddy, eager to show him around, reveal the walls that contained his room and all things within it.

 _His room_ , Teddy wondered. Just as the doorknob creaked, he struck a mental wall upon realizing he actually didn’t know what might adorn or make Billy’s room more like home. In fact, he really didn’t know that much about Billy at all, and yet there he was in a fluster over the other boy.

 _I must be out of my mind_ , Teddy thought, just as the door swung open.

And not by Billy.

Teddy’s heart deflated.

A man with spectacles beamed at them. “Oh, I know who you are,” he said through wide smile, “Teddy Altman, welcome to our home at last. And you must be Mrs. Altman. So glad your schedule opened up.

His tone as warm as his eyes, and Teddy noted (with some relief) that he wore no tie. Mr. Kaplan shook hands with Mrs. Altman’s first, delighted that she made it on such short notice, and then pressed his hand into Teddy’s. Returning the grip, Teddy found his own smile was mostly genuine. He decided he liked Mr. Kaplan in those few seconds alone and thought he felt the few butterflies he still had quiet down.

 

As Mr. Kaplan revealed his pleasure to have them, it was easy to connect that Billy’s smile was like his father’s. Then, the memory of how little Teddy had seen it in its full form as of late pulled his heart down into his shoes.

 

 

“Don’t let me keep you out here,” Mr. Kaplan said after remarking, once more, how pleasing it was to meet one of Billy’s friends at last. “Great to have you. Come in. Let me show you to the others. Would you like something to drink? We have plenty of food out as well.”

 

 

He peeled back the door as mom and son politely assured him they were fine for the moment. Teddy braced himself for the influx of what might as well have been another country to him. Chatter wafted at them, swelling as they officially entered the Kaplan household. Teddy teetered at the edge of the commotion, counting too many people, and feeling an awful lot like he was back to his first day of school.

 

 

His eyes did a quick sweep of the place. Plenty of people, a wide living space that was difficult to make out between bodies, though he could make out a menorah safely perched out of harm’s way, and there was light music floating above it all.

 

No sign of Billy.

 

 

“This way. Let me introduce you to everyone,” Mr. Kaplan was saying, ushering them toward a clutter of people.

 

 

They were older, at least his mom’s age, and though Teddy was as tall (or taller) than most of them, he felt like a kid whose height barely grazed his mom’s knee. His mom weaved through each greeting with a grace Teddy use to have when he’d been the popular guy’s best friend.

 

With his thoughts on Billy and the severity of the fact that he was  _in Billy’s house_  made Teddy feel off-kilter. It was all he could do to salvage his wits in order to return each greeting and take note of who Mr. Kaplan was introducing them to as they progressed through the foray—a cocktail of friends and few relatives from both sides of the family, and children that ducked and scurried past the forest of their legs.

 

 

All the while his eyes flicked over their heads or around their shoulders, hunting for a familiar mop of dark hair.

 

 

The home was nice, that much he could tell the deeper they entered. It was far bigger than the space he and his mom shared yet familiar, with framed photos speckling on the walls, adornments perching on a counter or table, and, if Teddy squinted and tilted his head, a fridge snowed under pictures drawn by a child. The Kaplan home was warm, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

 

“And this is my younger sister,” Mr. Kaplan was saying, and Teddy hated to admit he was devoting less than half of his attention to his words.

 

The bulk of his concentration went to the framed photos they had passed by, searching for anything that would update him about the boy who made his heart go pounding and want to daydream all day. A twist of guilt knotted inside him as he struggled to examine the photos while still engage in the introductions and small chitchat.

 

It didn’t work well because he felt his mom nudge him and heard her whisper, “You can do that later.”

 

Teddy stuffed down his protest, unsure what ‘ _that’_  implied; it made him fight down a blush all the same. He cleared his throat and paid a final glance at a picture of a young Billy happily lifted on his father’s shoulders. That vibrancy in his young face was vacant in any recent picture Teddy had seen so far.

 

 

Each step forward landed Teddy into new territory, with new people who remarked on his strapping looks or wondering if he was one of William’s friends. And with each inquiry about his friendship to Billy, the more those photographs hung in his mind, Teddy felt as though he were an intruder, a chill disrupting the warmth of Billy’s home.

 

And still no sign of Billy.

 

 

Teddy unconsciously fiddled with the faint bump the gift made in his jacket.

 

 

He thought to ask Mr. Kaplan on his whereabouts, but what few gaps he had in between greeting a stranger was filled with a dread that kept his throat dry. So he chewed on the thought that Billy was purposely avoiding him, his malaise bloating with each face he met that wasn’t Billy’s.

 

That was, until he saw Mrs. Kaplan approach. He didn’t need anyone to provide him with her name, as he knew who she was the moment he saw her looking at them. Whether it was a resemblance or the way her shot right into him that made him know, Teddy hadn’t the faintest.

 

“Oh, there’s my wife,” Mr. Kaplan said and nodded to her. She began approaching. “She’ll be very glad to see you.”

 

Teddy wasn’t sure about that, given the way Mrs. Kaplan’s sharp eyes scraped over him in a way that would have made a child version of himself tuck behind his mom’s leg. He instantly felt that she already knew he had had more than his fill of fantasies about her oldest son.

 

 

Then, she smiled, a small quirk to her lips but it was much softer than Teddy thought possible, and said, “I was worried Billy hadn’t really invited you and was lying this entire time. Thank you for coming,” she extender her hand, “both of you. Let me apologize in advance for any prying the relatives do.”

 

 

Teddy managed to nod, feeling especially conscious of every twitch and shift his body made; he remembered, if nothing else, that Mrs. Kaplan was a psychiatrist. It was one of few facts Billy had provided him.

 

 

“Thank you,” he said and offered his hand after his mom had done so. Mrs. Kaplan had a firmer handshake than her husband’s.

 

 

“Oh, it’s fine. Teddy’s been very excited about today,” Mrs. Altman supplied, giving Teddy a light pat on his shoulder.

 

 

 

“Mom,” Teddy contested, on instinct.

 

 

Mrs. Kaplan laughed softly and replied, “If it’s any consolation to you, I know Billy reciprocates the sentiment,” she said and shared a glance with her husband, who nodded and then excused himself to play host with the other invitees.

 

“He certainly talks about you enough,” Mrs. Kaplan added, looking more at Mrs. Kaplan than at Teddy as she said it.

 

 

At that, Teddy perked up, casting away his wonderings over why parents were inclined to discuss how much their kid talked about another. “Really?” he asked, unable to stop his curiosity. “Do you know where he is? I haven’t seen him yet.”

 

 

Mrs. Kaplan’s smile seemed to only shift at the first question, then she peered around. “He went to clean Isaac up, our youngest. Made a mess on his shirt while the kids were playing.”

 

Teddy steered his attention toward where Mrs. Kaplan looked. He vaguely heard his mom saying something in response before he tuned them out as easy as flipping a switch. Because there, sliding through the hallway, was Billy at long last, holding a hand of a tinier version of himself.

 

Teddy drank the sight of him, the crispness of his shirt, the buttons guiding Teddy’s eyes down, down, to a belt and length of nice pants. He had never seen Billy primped up and knew right then the mage could wear a potato sack and still get Teddy’s chest fluttering.

 

Their eyes met. Billy stopped at the hallway’s edge, as if debating the significance of crossing the threshold. At one point, Teddy succumbed to the possibility that Billy was going to hunker back into the hallway’s safety while Teddy battled the urge to take the first step.

 

Just as he almost combusted from his insidious thoughts, Billy smiled at him. A feeble one at that, but that was all it took to bring back the balance Teddy had misplaced since he had stepped inside the home.

 

Teddy worked one back at him.

 

Billy stepped forward finally, navigating through the bodies, and it wasn’t until they were face to face did Teddy realize he had met him halfway.

 

 “Hey.” Teddy thought it was a little easier to breathe now.

 

“Hey,” Billy replied, and this time the strain around his smile ebbed. It was the hint of good fortune, one that was assuaging Teddy’s discomfort, telling him that all his worries were out of reach now.

 

There was bustle and hustle swirling around them, and Teddy barely registered it as he held onto that smile.

 

He might have done it for who knew how long until: “You’re  _really_  big.”

 

The commotion ballooned back around Teddy as he returned to reality. He looked down at the source of it, meeting wide eyes of a kid who didn’t look to like being dolled up in a blazer.

 

“Oh,” Teddy said, softening at how the boy rubbed his hand where Billy had been gripping it. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am, aren’t I?”

 

“You’re bigger than my jungle gym,” the boy said.

 

“Isaac,” Billy began, nudging the kid in the back.

 

“Ow,” Isaac protested. “What? It’s true. He’s huge. I bet he can lift a thousand pounds.”

 

Teddy bit down on a smile. “No, it’s fine,” he said when Billy’s eyes narrowed at Isaac. “It’s nice to meet you Isaac. I’m Teddy.”

 

“I know who you are,” Isaac pouted, arms crossing as if his intelligence had been insulted. “Billy talks about you.”

 

There it was again. Teddy’s eyes stole a peek at Billy, aching to see his reaction. Billy didn’t disappoint, hair practically bristling and his fingers curling into fists.

 

“Isaac,” he hissed. “That’s not true.” Billy’s desperation flew to Teddy. “Just my parents always asked because, oh you know you found a new friend, what’s he like, blah, blah, blah.”

 

Teddy nodded, if only to alleviate Billy’s unease. Still, he wasn’t beyond mentally noting how quick Billy was to defend himself. Before Teddy could do anything with the information or relish in how things were turning around for the better, a little hand tugged at his sleeve.

 

Obliging, Teddy crouched down to hear Issac whisper not softly enough, “That’s a lie.”

 

“Isaac!”

 

“Billy,” a sharp voice said.

 

Billy’s head whipped up to acknowledge his mom and, upon realizing who stood beside her, collected his wits. “Oh, Mrs. Altman,” he exclaimed.

 

Beside him, Isaac brightened. “Are you Teddy’s Mom?” he asked.

 

“That’d be me,” Mrs. Atlaman replied. “And this fine gentleman must be Isaac Kaplan. Your mom was just telling me what a responsible boy you’re growing up to be.”

 

Isaac preened and accepted her hand shake, though he used two hands to accomplish the feat. Seemingly spurned on by guessing correctly, Isaac opened his mouth to explode into a paroxysm of questions, but Billy cut him off by saying, “It’s really nice to meet you. Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you at the door.”

 

“You’re sweet to apologize but no need. It’s nice to finally meet one of Teddy’s new friend,” she said, sneaking a softer smile at Isaac when he began to glower at his older brother. Billy looked too busy hiding a blush to notice.

 

Teddy tried not to groan or bury himself under the table.

 

Billy’s smile tussled between widening and wilting. “Thank you, Mrs. Altman.”

 

 

She waved Teddy off, hearing the non-spoken complaint. “We usually spend the holidays alone so this is quite a nice change,” she added, “and Teddy told me you confirmed Christmas dinner.”

 

 

“Oh,” Billy’s eyes drifted back to Teddy, “yeah. Thank you for that, by the way.”

 

“Of course,” Mrs. Altman replied. “It’ll be wonderful having you over. I’m sure Teddy wouldn’t mind the company.”

 

 

Teddy’s gut curled and he faintly he had the impression that Mrs. Kaplan was scrutinizing their interactions as sharply as a hawk the whole time. He found himself too engulfed in Billy to dare a peek at the psychiatrist though. He might as well have been on an operation table with all his bits exposed as far as he could tell.

 

           

“Billy,” Mrs. Kaplan said at last, sending a chill up Teddy’s spine at what she might say, “why don’t you offer Teddy something to eat.”

 

 

 

Not expecting that, Teddy spared both moms a look. Mrs. Atlman nodded at the suggestion and looked at Mrs. Kaplan, then back at the boys.  Her expression softened.

.

 

 

Teddy blinked at them, feeling as if he was out of the loop about some important information. Their expressions didn’t give anything away, wrapped up in that veil moms seemed to have perfected the older their kids got. So he watched Billy again as the mage was handed the reins.

 

 

 

“Sure,” Billy said, voicing Teddy’s wariness. He held his mom’s eyes a moment longer, but whatever silent argument they were (or weren’t having), Teddy couldn’t decipher in the least.

 

 

If it were an argument, Billy looked to have lost when he stepped around his mom, telling Mrs. Altman he’d talk to her soon, and lead Teddy toward one end of the room where a table stretched on for a while, wealthy with food. No one interrupted their stride, nor did Billy speak, magnifying the silence between them until it had become a creature of its own.

 

 

Safely detached from any adults, Teddy cleared his throat and decided to test the waters.

 

“So,” he started, “your parents are cool. Your dad’s really nice. Your mom looked like she could see right through me though.” He said the last part with a light laugh.

 

 

Billy studied the food, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Yeah, she’s like that, sorry,” he said. He spared Teddy a glimpse. “Your mom’s nice too. She’s really pretty.” He then cleared his throat and gestured at the table. “Erm, you don’t have to eat, if you don’t want to, especially the traditional stuff.”

 

 

“Maybe in a bit, if that’s okay, Teddy replied, unable to find his appetite. At the least, there had to be something said for how still he could stand when he wanted to do anything but.

 

 

 

On the other hand, there was Billy, a case study in restlessness. He seemed to devote an awful lot of attention to analyzing the food. Quiet as he was, Teddy had little option but to study him, take in the way Billy’s eyes almost jumped his way, or the way his throat bobbed like he were swallowing down apprehension and still had more to swallow.

 

 

 

The sight withered Teddy’s resolve that Billy would be pleased to see him. Maybe things weren’t turning around at all.

 

 

“Are the kids here all your cousins?” Teddy asked.

 

 

Billy grabbed a plate and began piling it with food. “Most,” he answered, peeking at Teddy again. “This isn’t even the whole family, and I think one of them is the daughter of a friend from my dad’s work.”

 

“Oh.”

 

 

Teddy watched him mull over the choices a while. He would bet Billy couldn’t look more concentrated if he were taking an exam.

 

“Isaac sure seems outspoken,” Teddy added.

 

“Yeah. Annoying, I know.” Billy almost pushed out a chuckle that time. It died the instant he held Teddy’s gaze for more than two seconds.

 

Acting like he hadn’t noticed it, Teddy shrugged. “I don’t mind, really.”

 

That earned him a skeptical look, too easily lost when Billy turned away. He had loaded his plate with mounds of food by now, none of which would be eaten. Picked at, at best.

 

“I don’t have any siblings,” Teddy went on, grasping for any reaction that told him all his worries had been for nothing and he could tell his insides to take a breather. “So it’s nice you have two, though I didn’t meet the other one.”

                                                    

 

“Jacob’s sick.” Billy finally stopped adding to the heap on his plate. Probably realized his plate could only withstand so much. “He’s the opposite of Isaac in terms of personality.”

 

“Ah.”

 

A pause. Billy’s fingertips dragged over the treats, sometimes pinching one as though he was going to lift it to his mouth. Teddy sunk his focus on those fingers, wondering what had made them unsure of themselves, had made them split the air with magic that was anything but stable during their last session with the team.

 

With herculean effort, Teddy pulled away from looking and busied his hands by selecting one of many cups filled with what looked like water. “Well,” he took a sip, “I hope he’s not too sick.”

 

“Just a cold, but we don’t want him spreading it around. Mom keeps checking on him.”

 

“That’s good.” Teddy rubbed his palms along the flimsy cup, mindful that the slightest shift in pressure would squash the material. Still, the gesture gave the impression that he wasn’t on the awkward end of a conversation.

 

“Um,” Billy said, not looking up, “did you have a hard time finding the place?”

 

“No, it was alright. I think your directions are better than the GPS on my phone,” Teddy replied.

 

Billy’s lip twitched, then it drooped back down.

 

“Your place is really nice,” Teddy offered next.

 

“Thanks,” Billy said, looked like he was going to say more, then stopped.

 

They stood there, not shoulder-to-shoulder like Teddy had grown accustomed to. Just to do something, he took another sip and scanned the sort-of-party, hoping others weren’t drawing the same conclusions about them that Teddy was. He spotted his mom at the far end, speaking to Mrs. Kaplan, her hand at times gesturing in their direction unconsciously.

 

“They’re talking about us,” Teddy said quietly.

 

At that, he practically felt Billy’s anxiety triple like some volatile presence spiraling around him. Teddy saw him look up to where their moms were. “You’re right,” he said. He didn’t sound surprised.

 

Teddy repressed the urge to inhale sharply, struck by a thought. “We’re not having a dinner or anything?” he asked. The prospect of settling to a table with all these strangers, with his  _mom_  and the Kaplans watching them at such a close proximity was enough to make his throat seize up.

 

“Erm, no. Nothing formal like that. We do that with just the family. My parents like the last day to be a nice get together after we do the family stuff.” Billy almost rolled his eyes. “I’m not really sure why they call it a party.”

 

“Oh.” Teddy exhaled, riding a moment of relief, both at the news and that he had gotten an extra sentence out of Billy that time. Then again, the current predicament didn’t seem like a better alternative. Had it really been only minutes earlier his spirits had been soaring with renowned hope?

 

The silence stacked itself, almost outweighing the gift Teddy suspected he’d never present at this point. As much as he ached to address whatever it was that made their silence go from comforting to downright palpable, there he stood, trying to gauge just how much his mom was divulging to Mrs. Kaplan. None of it could have been in his best interest either.

 

Amid that, he continued to spy on Billy and study what photographs he could from his spot. The mage looked more occupied with his own thoughts than with the staling their friendship had undergone in a few, short days while the photos didn’t answer any of Teddy’s questions.

 

“You know,” Teddy opted for another go, “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I came. I’ve never been to this kind of party before. I like it so far. It’s really carefree.”

 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Billy said. He stopped playing with his food altogether by now and merely held the plate, maybe for the same reason Teddy held his drink.

 

Then, after a pause, Billy murmured, “Thanks for coming.”

 

“You said that already,” Teddy replied, teasing, “but you’re welcome, and thanks for inviting me.”

 

He didn’t add that Billy was acting like he felt the opposite. Nor did he disclose how the most recent days tangled in his mind as he tried to crack their riddle, and ended him with more questions than when he started with.

 

 “Billy,” he tried again. He hoped his voice carried his concern while he kept it low. “Did…I do something?”

 

That finally warranted Billy’s attention on him. His crush watched him, eyes a bit wide, and jaw working as if he had something to say, but something else kept it locked.

 

“No, of course not,” answered Billy.

 

 

“Are you sure? You’re,” Teddy gave the place a once over for any greedy ears, particularly those of his mom’s, “kind of distant. You  _are_  distant, I mean.”

 

Billy shook his head.

 

A quiet albeit long breath drifted out of Teddy; it was as close to a sigh as it would get.

 

“Of course not,” Teddy said, so softly it sank under the thrum of the chatter and music.

 

As silly as he felt for crushing on someone whose room was an enigma to him, Teddy now knew what had made him feel those warm tingles. It was Billy’s smiles, his brilliance, the way he’d make the others laugh, his devotion to helping others, how hard he pushed himself when he looked like all he wanted was sleep, the way he spoke his mind when at first he borrowed deeper into his self-built shell. All those things that said a lot more than what Billy’s room could.

 

Teddy felt the absence of that Billy—the real Billy—as hard as a good blow to the chest from Eli.

 

Maybe because it was all Teddy could do to salvage what they once had, or maybe he supposed there was nothing left to lose, that he reached into his jacket.

 

“I got you something,” he began, riding a swollen burst of confidence he gave himself by remembering the first time Billy laughed at one of his awful jokes. “A gift. For Hanukkah.”

 

He turned, providing his back to anyone who might spy on them, and fished out the small package.

 

Billy’s eyes glued onto it.

 

A moment transpired, as quick as a breeze and mighty as a storm, and Billy still stared. Teddy took in a lung-full of air and extended the gift, stirring Billy from his stupor.

 

Dark eyes lifted and the plate of food was set down. “You got me a gift?” Billy repeated.

 

Teddy had to chuckle. He shifted the item into his other palm. “Well, yeah. I was going to give it to you on the first day but I forgot and,” he stopped, refusing to replay that day, “well, here it is. I feel kind of bad not having one for your brothers now though.”

 

Billy didn’t answer that, every bodily function converging to inspect the wrapped object in his grasp. He turned it over a few times, those marvelous hands dragging over the faint wrinkles Teddy had made earlier.

 

When his focus returned on Teddy, he said, “Come on.”

 

Teddy had never felt so rooted to one spot, but when Billy spoke, he went right after him, insistent on pursuing what spell that had overcome the mage. They ducked out of sight without a bump along the way, leaving the labyrinth of friends and family behind. Billy turned down the hallway, silent all the while, body taut with a purpose he had been missing.

 

They came to a shut door, Billy’s hand curled around the knob, not having yet committed to opening it.

 

“Is it okay that we just left like that?” Teddy asked, tossing a look over his shoulder.

 

“Look,” Billy said suddenly, ignoring him, “I’m…sorry. I know I’ve been…kind of a jerk”

 

“Kind of?” Teddy smiled.

 

Billy shot him a look, the snarky kind Teddy had missed so much. “Yes,” he said. “It wasn’t you though, really. As in, you hadn’t done anything to upset me.”

 

Teddy waited, ever founded in patience, for Billy to press on.

 

Billy didn’t explain though, instead saying, “You didn’t have to get me a present.”

 

“You didn’t have to invite me. And you weren’t a jerk. I would know. Had my fill of them.”

 

“You got the present  _before_  I invited you.”

 

Teddy lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “What’s wrong with giving a present?”

 

Billy snorted, like Teddy had missed the point.

 

“Billy,” Teddy began again, “If something’s bothering you, you could tell me.” His heart clamored, too aware that he had said ‘me’ with no mentioning of Nate or Eli.

 

“It’s not that,” Billy said, grappled with his vocabulary, and shook his head. He looked to be gathering up every tough nerve he could muster before he barreled through into the room.

 

Teddy hesitated, then stepped in when Billy made no move to slam the door on his face. As a precaution, he shut the door behind him. He sank into the gloom of shadows, interspersed by what fingers of light reached through the cracked blinds.

 

Billy moved to one end of the room and switched on a lamp.

 

Teddy’s eyes bulged.

 

“Wow,” he said, unaware he had voiced his astonishment.

 

It was a fanboy’s lair, that was the first coherent thought that popped up at Teddy. Posters stared down at him, games and their respective consoles coaxed him closer, and shelves assembled for the sole purpose of maintaining a collection of comics lured him even closer. A laugh almost leapt from Teddy at the greatest room he could have fathomed, his mind overloaded and unable to label the discovery as  _Billy’s room_.

 

He gravitated toward one wall and focused on one of the largest posters, adhered so removal wouldn’t damage it.

 

“Whoa,” Teddy breathed, “isn’t that a limited poster that went to the first fifty people who—“

 

“Yeah,” Billy said, and that time Teddy heard his voice pick up strength. “You…like it?”

 

Teddy laughed that time and marveled at its pristine condition. “Are you kidding? I would have given up a leg if I could have waited in line for it.”

 

Teddy whirled around, grin splitting his face as the shelf captured his interest. “You got all the Red Robins too? I haven’t been able to pick up the last two issues.” He almost had the audacity to graze his fingertips over their thin spines.

 

“You read it?”

 

“Yeah,” Teddy tossed him a glance over his shoulder upon realizing Billy’s pastime was as meticulous as his own, more so probably. “I knew you liked the Avengers, but this,” he stopped and waved his hand around, “this is impressive. I can’t say I’m not a little envious.”

 

“Yeah?” Billy’s smile returned. By the amount of relief flooding his eyes, Teddy wondered if Billy had expected the reverse outcome.

 

“What? You think you’re the only fan around?”

 

Billy shook his head and his eyes dropped to the gift still cradled in his hand. If Teddy didn’t know better, he would have betted what little money he had that a streak of red had splashed across Billy’s face.

 

“I didn’t know you were into that stuff,” Billy said.

 

“Well,” Teddy scratched at his brow, “I admit it’s been a while since I really got to enjoy it.”

 

“Greg?”

 

Teddy’s nerves froze, adrenaline spiked. His smile collapsed. Turning on his heels, he surveyed Billy up and down. At the sympathy in his friend’s eyes, he relaxed. “Yeah,” he whispered. “How did you—“

 

“I didn’t. I just,” Billy shrugged, “assumed. You never said a lot about him. Didn’t have to.”

 

Teddy stared at him.

 

Billy’s shoulders rose, tense. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

 

“No,” Teddy blinked and returned to the shelf. “To be honest, you’re the first one who I really told. Well, besides my mom I guess. She had even asked me why she hadn’t seen me reading them in a while or,” he broke off and frowned, “things like that.”

 

“You could,” he heard all but hear Billy’s courage rallying, “if you want, that is, you could borrow some of my issues if you don’t have them.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Teddy looked at him in time to find a familiar delight on Billy’s face, matching the resolve he had heard in the other boy’s voice.

 

“Granted, if they came back in a poor condition I’d have to zap you.” Billy laughed and Teddy forgot all his concerns in that fleeting sound.

 

The subsequent silence trickled over them, stretching thin when they recognized where the conversation was returning to. From the window, the city’s purr went on without them, and offered a respite from what would have otherwise been a too-still room.

 

The noise must have pulled at Billy’s interest because he was scuttling to the window in the next moment. With one hand, he raised the blinds and cracked the window wide open. Without so much as a preamble, he crawled through onto the fire escape, gift and all.

 

Teddy trailed behind, peeking under the sill to greet the chill and see Billy settle down like he had no plans to move anytime soon.

 

Teddy ducked through and sat beside him, keeping a respectful distance in light of the circumstances. Billy was occupied handling the gift, not even peeling at the ends to sneak a peek inside. Thinking it better than to disturb whatever sorting was going on in his brain, Teddy appraised the sky through the gaps of other fire escapes and skyscrapers.

 

There wasn’t a cloud in sight, nor the sparkle of enough stars. As dark as the sky was, it flushed with color from the force of the city’s lights. On another night, Teddy would have called it pretty. It wasn’t long ago that Billy was diving up into it with Teddy bellowing encouragements from below, promising he’d be there to catch him should he fall.

 

Teddy lowered his eyes and drew up his legs. He had lied to himself when he thought he gave the present because there was nothing left to lose, having told himself he had faced rejection before and could brave through again. It wasn’t the same; the stakes were astronomical, more expansive than the murky sky above, and Teddy worried it would crack and crumble right on him.

 

“I like you Teddy.”

 

Teddy lifted his head.

 

The proclamation didn’t register with him at first, not for a good half a minute, though it had come louder than the buzz of the city below them. When he did catch up with the words, Teddy slowly turned his head toward Billy.

 

Billy was looking at him now, eyes fueled with the vitality Teddy had become fond of. His hands rubbed over the gift, every moving as he held Teddy’s eyes.

 

“I…like you too,” Teddy said when Billy didn’t elaborate.

 

He saw Billy’s pulse hammering against his throat as the mage swallowed. “No,” Billy replied, “that’s not what I mean.”

 

Teddy shook his head, urging him on.

 

“I  _really_  like you.” Billy held on tighter to the gift. “Look, I just—I really didn’t expect to tell you this tonight. But it needs to be out there, that much I know, and I’m not expecting anything in return. I just hope it doesn’t ruin our friendship or affect the team. I’m sorry. I figured if I didn’t say it, it might come out another way, maybe in a more uncomfortable way because,” he inhaled, “I like you a lot.”

 

 _Like_ , Teddy thought, the word swishing around in his mind, illuminating all what had once been subtle hints—the coyness of a smile, the attempt to touch his arm, how he’d sit almost always by him when the team took a breather, the blushes(?), the—

 

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

“It’s okay if you’re upset,” Billy went on, but Teddy hardly picked up the words.

 

Teddy reeled from the admission, Mrs. Kaplan behavior around Billy suddenly making too much sense. Had she sensed the disruption in her son’s conduct was Teddy? Did she  _know_  how Billy felt? None of that mattered because as fast as the questions came, they dashed out of sight. The sky was now beneath Teddy’s feet and the ground felt somewhere above him, and several emotions battled for dominance at the forefront of his brain, sticking him senseless to his spot.

 

It wasn’t until Billy’s face contorted and he looked down at his gift did Teddy find the spirit to speak.

 

“Billy,” was all he could say, because that name said so much.

 

 

There was plenty to say back, to leap up and shout with delight that he really, really liked Billy too. He wanted to laugh, to tackle the boy into a hug, to stare, to bury himself in a dark pocket of the sky and allow himself time to figure out how the hell did things turn out the way they just did.

 

His friend, his crush-who-liked-him-back, flicked his eyes over at him, seeming suspicious.

 

In the end, Teddy worked out a laugh, which came out more like a gasp as his glee overpowered everything else. He shook his wits and re-categorized his main concern, forcing himself to ask, “Is that why you’ve been like this, why even your magic has been all messed up?”

 

Billy snorted. It was the closest thing to admittance Teddy figured he’d get. No doubt Billy could outmatch Eli when it came to stubbornness.

 

“You…I mean, you could have just…”

 

“Tell you?” Billy smirked. “Look, I’m not,” he pressed his lips together a moment, “ashamed of myself. I know I’m okay as I am. You guys helped me believe that. It’s just you’re the closest things to real friends I’ve had in a long while.”

 

He didn’t explain further, didn’t have to. Teddy knew his position all too well, without the help of those images of a young, happier Billy.

 

“You’re right,” Teddy said. “I’m not one to talk.”

 

Billy narrowed an eye at him. “Huh?”

 

Returning the gesture, Teddy refused to break eye contact. “Guess you beat me to it,” he said.

 

There was something cavorting inside him, and it took him a moment to identify it as amusement as he saw Billy’s face shift as understanding crested.

 

“No,” Billy said.

 

Teddy laughed that time. “I’m not kidding,” he said.

 

Billy thrust his upper body forward, accusingly almost. “Say it,” he said, and oh, how Teddy had yearned to hear that aggression in his voice again.

 

“Billy,” Teddy started, scooting a few inches closer, “I…really like you too.”

 

At Billy’s expression, the pressure inside and all around Teddy dissipated.

 

Clearing his throat but having no plans to ease up on his smile, Teddy pointed to the gift Billy was doing a nice job of crushing. “You might want to open that now,” he said. “Just a thought.”

 

“Huh? Oh.” Billy ogled the present. “I should open it…”

 

“No rush. Pretty sure your games and comics can keep me occupied a few hours.”

 

Billy’s smile broke through then, on par with what few star blazed billions of miles away above them. He spared Teddy a look before he went to work, fingers working smoothly to peel back the wrapping. Teddy hoped that if it had been a gift from anyone else, the wrapping would have been a collateral damage in the wake of Billy’s curiosity.

 

Countless heartbeats later, Billy unveiled a thin box. Teddy watched his fingertips drag along its surface as if that alone would have sufficed as a gift. Eventually, his thumb pried the lid open.

 

“Oh, no,” Billy laughed as he dug out the watch. “I’m sure this has  _nothing_ to do with all the times I was late to meet you guys or always asking one of you for the time.”

 

“Not at all,” Teddy said. “I figured it was either that or strapping your phone around your wrist with tape.”

 

Billy fussed with the watch, studying the thickness of the band and its face. “Wow, it’s really nice,” he said, joking dropped. “It’s digital.”

 

“Can’t go wrong with digital.”

 

Billy pressed something and the face of the watch glowed. He tapped another button, each beep making Teddy’s pulse spike.

 

“Is there anything this watch doesn’t have?” asked Billy.

 

“I don’t think it can officially ask you out for lunch or maybe dinner,” Teddy said. He swallowed when Billy looked at him. “If you’re not busy.”

 

Gradually, Billy’s face softened with a new kind of smile, one Teddy didn’t think he’d seen before. It was bold, but somehow bashful, excited and anxious, all wrapped into one pull of his lips that made his mouth even more alluring than Teddy had fantasized about.

 

“I’d like that,” Billy said. His head tilted higher up. “Maybe even a trip through the sky once I got the flying thing down.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Billy’s eyes returned to him. “ _If_  I get the flying thing down,” he amended.

 

“You know, my mom has some self-help books,” and before Billy could crinkle his nose he tagged on, “she  _swears_  by them. Maybe after the lunch, or dinner, I could show you some. It can’t hurt.”

 

Billy looked down at the watch. He didn’t look all that contemplative, with what that ridiculous smile still plastered on him.

 

“ It’s a date,” he said, then offered Teddy the watch.

 

Understanding, Teddy shuffled closer. When their knees touched, everything felt as it should, upsurge of body heat included. Teddy had never been more aware of how warm Billy’s presence was as he leaned close, how tempting it was to lean just a bit closer so that their hair grazed. His stocky fingers worked on the watch, which was a difficult task when a faint tremor rocked them. Did Billy really just agree to go on a  _date_  with him?

 

 _Don’t let me wake up if he didn’t_ , Teddy thought.

 

When he was finished, his fingertips brushed the inside of Billy’s wrist, praying, hoping, begging that it wasn’t the last time he’d get to feel it.

 

“Thanks,” Billy said, and his voice tickled Teddy’s ear.

 

Teddy’s breath caught when he felt Billy’s shoulder nuzzle his own, sending his nerves into a dichotomy of trepidation and bliss. He thought to ask what happened now, what catalogue did their relationship fell into now.

 

But the longer he held onto his questions and they continued sharing the silence, the more Teddy wanted to do it longer; just sitting there, shoulder-to-shoulder, with Billy deserved a little more indulging. And if he got a rush each time Billy’s leg bumped against his, or he caught what he swore was the sound of Billy’s heartbeat, or saw Billy’s fingers touching the watch, who could blame him?

 

After all, it would be the last gift Teddy gave just a friend.

**-X-**


End file.
